


Candle in the Window

by madasthesea



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Christmas, College Student Peter Parker, Gen, Homesickness, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Snow Storms, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 11:57:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16932849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madasthesea/pseuds/madasthesea
Summary: Finals are over and Peter just wants to go home. The weather has other ideas.





	Candle in the Window

**Author's Note:**

  * For [caraminha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caraminha/gifts).



 

“Did you get the package I sent?” Tony asked, angling the tablet to see Peter’s face better.

“You mean the package that you had a drone deliver in the middle of my dining hall? Yeah, I got it.” Peter said, fondly rolling his eyes.

“And? Show me your digs, kid, I wanna see.”

Peter sighed deeply, feigning annoyance as he stood from his dormitory desk. He took his laptop with him, walking around his small, concrete walled dorm room, now adorned with strings of Christmas lights, the smallest artificial tree he’d ever seen decked out with Avengers and Star Wars ornaments, and a Spider-Man stocking hanging over his bed. All the decorations had come in Tony’s care package, along with enough candy and junk food to keep him happy until finals week was over.

“Looks good, Pete. Looks really good.” The Tony on screen shook a little as he appeared to walk down the compound halls.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, smiling softly as he plopped down onto his bed.

“So, you got your essay turned in, so now you just ha—”

“Wait, Mr. Stark,” Peter interrupted, looking at the spot over Tony’s shoulder. “Did you already decorate?”

Tony glanced over his shoulder too, saw the Christmas tree in the corner.

“Uh, yeah, buddy, a bit. We thought... we thought you’d like to come home and have it decorated. But you know what, we’ll take it down, wait ‘til you get here,” Tony said quickly. He knew how much Peter liked decorating for Christmas—he always blasted music and crawled all over the walls hanging garlands and wreaths on every available inch. Tony had debated for a long time whether to wait for Peter or have it done when he got there.

“No, no, that’s stupid, don’t do that,” Peter said, feeling a pang of loneliness as he did.

“Pete—”

“Seriously, Mr. Stark. Just make sure not to watch Muppets without me, alright?” He forced a smile.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Peter,” Tony assured him. “And we’ve only done the living room, there’s still plenty of mayhem for you to wreak.”

“Ok. Ok, sounds good.” There was a small lull, and Peter could tell Tony was feeling guilty even with all the miles separating them. “Hey, that looks new. What is it?”

“Huh?” Peter directed Tony to walk toward the single warm light flickering behind him. “Oh, uh... that was Pepper’s idea,” Tony said in a way that told Peter that Pepper had had nothing to do with it. “It’s a, uh, a candle. It’s so... family members who are away can... find their way home for Christmas. It’s an old Irish thing apparently, I don’t know, you’d have to ask her.”

Peter felt tears prick his eyes. “It’s nice, Mr. Stark. It’s really nice.”

Tony looked at him through the screen, his face a little melancholy. “I’ll see you on Saturday, alright, kiddo?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, nodding.

“And you’re going to blow your teachers away with your smarts. Ace every test.”

“Sure.” He wasn’t too nervous about his finals—he was still in the easy intro classes. Well, easy for MIT, anyway. He just wanted to be home with May and Tony and Pepper, watching every Christmas movie ever made and drinking a gallon of hot chocolate.

“I’m proud of you, buddy.” Tony sounded so sincere it made Peter’s eyes burn.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark. I’ll see you soon.”

“Night, Pete.”

“Night.”

The call cut out. His dorm felt especially empty all of a sudden. But the multi-colored lights hanging all about cheered him up a bit, and he turned back to his textbooks, unwrapping a Reese’s cup and popping it in his mouth.

 

Thursday arrived, snowy and cold, and with an email sitting in Peter’s inbox informing him that his Friday final was cancelled. Peter laid under his covers, enjoying the warmth and staring at his phone, debating.

May and Tony would be thrilled to have him home early. If he called, Tony would probably have a car waiting for him the second his afternoon final was done. Or... he could surprise them. He did have a car here, after all. Imagine how great it would be, showing up on the compound’s doorstep tonight.

Grinning to himself, Peter got up and started getting dressed. They would be so happy to see him.

 

The snow started getting bad after he’d pulled off the interstate. The smaller, less-used highway up to the compound was slick and icy, so Peter drove slowly, his windshield wipers on the highest setting. He wasn’t too nervous—he had super reflexes and vision and there weren’t many people around to crash into him. He resolutely kept on driving.

 

By the time he exited the highway and was on the ten mile private road up to the back of the compound, the snow was two feet deep. Tony kept the main road meticulously plowed, but no one used this one.  

“Ok, Peter. Ten miles. That’s not so bad,” he muttered to himself. He was only going fifteen miles an hour.

He got stuck seven miles in.

“Well... shoot.”

He could barely open the car door, the snow was so high. He forced it open, stepped out and was immediately numb up to his knees.

“Ugh,” he said, already shivering. The heater of his car, turned all the way up for the last two hours of his drive, had staved off his weakness to cold, but the second the door was open he felt it creeping up on him.

It was hard to get traction in the slippery snow, but Peter dug his hands under the frame of his car and lifted the whole thing out of the rut it had made, carried it a dozen feet, and then set it down again.

He was panting hard as he dropped the car back onto the wheels.

“You’re getting flabby, Parker.” He got back in the drivers seat, sticking his hands directly in front of the vents to warm them.

He put the car back in four wheel drive and pressed on the gas pedal. It didn’t move an inch.

“Oh come on.” He sighed. “There goes the surprise,” he grumbled, pulling out his phone.

 _No signal_.

“Parker luck strikes again.”

And now he was in a bind. Because there were three miles to go to the compound, and even the few minutes out of the car before had started sapping his limbs of their strength, had started weighing down his eyelids. And his car would not move.

There was really only one option.

Peter got out the car, wadded to the trunk and pulled out all the winter gear he’d brought with him. A hoodie, two coats, a scarf and a beanie. He tugged them all on, and started walking.

It was dark out. This far away from a city, the snow was barely visible until it was directly in front of his face. The only way he knew he was still on the road was the way the snow banked higher at the edges.

He was shivering within minutes. His feet were numb, his thighs throbbing where the snow reached. His fingers, shoved deep into his pockets, stung and ached. He flexed them methodically, trying to stimulate circulation.

The first mile dragged on.

By the second, his thoughts were starting to drift. He stumbled into the snow bank more and more often, only realizing when the snow numbed his waist. He would correct himself, then wander off again a few dozen feet later, his eyes half closed.

“Mr. Stark,” he whimpered the third time he stumbled, falling into the snow. The stuff clung to him, drenching every layer of protection he’d put on. “Mr. Stark, come find me.”

He trudged on, briefly forgetting where he was going and why.

The next time he fell, he almost forgot to get back up.

He was so tired. So, so tired, and he just wanted to sleep. The dark was pressing against his eyelids, coaxing him to rest.

He lifted his weary head, forced his eyes open.

In the distance, a speck of light caught his eye. It was flickering, dancing against the blackness. The warmth seemed to wrap around Peter, reminding him that there was somewhere he had to go. Someone was waiting for him.

He forced his arms to push him up, his legs to support his weight. He couldn’t feel any of his limbs, but they sluggishly obeyed his commands.

He put one foot in front of the other. His back bent, his knees shaking, he kept his gaze fixed on that single light, that solitary hint of warm and safe and _home_.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he walked. Every step felt like a mile, like a marathon effort.

The light calling him on was a siren song. He kept walking.

 

“I can’t do it,” he cried. The tears fell down his cheeks and froze to his skin like brands. “I can’t go any further.”

He couldn’t remember ever being warm. He couldn’t think about why he was walking, where he was coming from.

He looked up, found the light one last time.

“I can’t,” he told it. It flickered again, reassuring. He took another step, one more.

And then he fell. And didn’t get back up.

Around him, lights brighter than the sun clanged on, the first noise Peter has heard in what may be hours.

Laying face first in the snow, Peter turned his head, and found that single light, still visible against the blinding snow.    

 _Come find me_.

And then he fell asleep.

 

He was being moved, tugged and pulled in different directions. A voice was in his ear, calling his name.

Suddenly his world was nothing but heat, burning every inch of his skin.

He didn’t realize he was screaming until he got a mouthful of water and choked on it.

“-eter! Peter, calm down, I’m here, I’m right here.”

“Please stop,” he whimpered.

“We need to warm you up, Pete,” the voice said.

The heat faded into nothing as Peter passed out.

 

He woke up again, surrounded by warmth and comfort.

A hand was on the side of his face. It was calloused and familiar and so, so warm. Peter turned his face into it, humming sleepily.

“Hey there, kiddo,” Tony said.

“Hi,” Peter croaked. He wasn’t too surprised to find himself in the medbay when he finally peeled his eyes open.

Tony had the decency to wait until he was a little more awake before saying, in a deceptively pleasant voice.

“Mind telling me what the heck you were thinking _walking_ here in a _blizzard_?”

“My car got stuck in the snow,” Peter murmured. Tony’s hand was rhythmically combing through his hair, and the electric blankets on top of him were weighty and warm and it took all his concentration to not fall asleep.

“Ok, let me ask a different question: Why were you driving in a blizzard without telling me you were coming or, I don’t know, asking me to come get you in the private jet I keep ready just in case _you_ need it?”

“You keep a pla—”

“Peter.”

Peter looked at his lap. “I wanted to surprise you. My last final got cancelled.”

Tony sighed, sat down at Peter’s hip. “You surprised me alright. You collapsed just this side of the security perimeter, I got an alert. If you’d passed out even two feet back, you would have frozen to death out there and I never would have known, Peter.”

“I’m sorry, I... I just wanted to come home,” Peter said, ashamed.

Tony tipped his chin up. “And you’re here, bud.” He smiled. “I’m happy to see you.”

“I’m happy to see you, too,” Peter whispered.

“Want me to save the lecture for later?” Tony asked.

“Yes, please.”

“Alright. You can move to the couch if we take the blankets with us.”

With Tony supporting him, Peter gathered up the many blankets and trudged toward the living room. The storm was still raging outside, the daylight gray and dim.

The Christmas lights were all on and Peter stopped in the threshold, looking around with a smile on his face. He could feel Tony watching him.

He shuffled further into the room, taking in every garland and twinkling light. He froze when he saw the flickering candle on the window sill.

“Pete?”

“The candle,” Peter breathed.

“What about it?” Tony asked, coming up to him and nudging him toward the couch.

“I... I could see it. When I was walking. It... it kept me going.” Peter looked at Tony, his eyes bright. “It led me home.”

Tony swallowed, looked between Peter and the candle. “Yeah?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah.”

“Well,” Tony blinked for a moment. “I guess it’s a new Stark family tradition.”

“Good idea,” Peter said, smiling. Tony brushed a hand against his cheek, smiling softly. Peter leaned into the touch.

“So,” Tony said after a moment, clearing his throat. “Hot chocolate?”

Peter nodded. “And Muppets Christmas Carol?”

“Of course. It’s Christmas,” Tony scoffed before going to make Peter as much cocoa as he could drink.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> Muppets Christmas Carol is the best Christmas movie and y'all are sleeping on it. Also, the Irish tradition is that you put a candle in the window so a priest knows he's welcome (or Mary and Joseph) but it's sort of adapted over the years. Let me know what you thought!


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